Garibaldi: King of Biscuits
by queenoftherandomoneandonly
Summary: Sequel to The Start of Defeat, a little earlier than expected. Will Gene recuperate with Alex and Millie for support, or will the shadow of Trent hang over him forever? Lots of Galex, lots of Millie.  I know she's only an O/C, but I love her. :D
1. Chapter 1: Recovery

**A/N: How cool am I? I said late October, but sod it! Early October will do nicely. After The Start of Defeat, my Ninja Goblins have resigned to live on a reserve in Scotland, so I've hired some Black-belt Squirrels instead, who are more than ready to attack people who read and don't review. Consider this ample warning. Enjoy!**

_The figure of Trent loomed in the shadows. Gene was powerless, unable to move, his body a lead weight upon the floor. He could only watch, in slow motion as she struggled and cried. He was too strong for her. Gene's fear broke as Trent forced her to her knees, holding her down with one hand as the other went up to his fly. _

"ALEX!"

"I'm here, Guv. I'm here. " she sat up abruptly, placing a reassuring hand on his arm and caressing him lightly. He had sat bolt upright, eyes wide and unseeing. The bed sheets were twisted around him where he had writhed, sweat-sodden throughout the dream. Gently freeing him, Alex exposed his glistening skin to the air. How it hurt her to watch his shaking breaths as he came to. Of course, it would never have been plain sailing after everything that had happened, but she had hoped…

No. As infallible as he may seem in his work and his personality, Alex knew that even Gene Hunt got scared sometimes, sometimes lost control.

Sitting up beside him, she wound her arms around his shoulders, placing her head against his damp vest-clad back, which gradually slowed its heaving as his breath did the same.

"Bolls?"

"I'm here Gene," she placed a gentle kiss at the nape of his neck, tasting a hint of the liquid saltiness brought about by his terror. "same dream again?"

"Yeah." bringing his knees up to his chest, it suddenly struck him what he must look like. Shaking like a child over a dream. What would Ray and Chris think of him should they see him like this? He imagined Ray stamping out a cigarette and shaking his head in disgust, Chris looking on confusedly. Alex's warm weight behind him, however, soon drove these thoughts from his mind. What must _she _think of him? Never mind Ray and bloody Chris!

"I'm sorry, love."

"What for?" she said, slightly incredulous.

"All this." he muttered.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Guv." somehow, the habit of calling Gene 'Guv' had not been one easily broken. Despite the fact that they were now living together, it had been incredibly had to keep their professional life out of their personal life, and, indeed vice-versa. Conveniently enough, however, it seemed to work. Alex drew back as Gene unconsciously began to hug his knees, positioning herself so that he could see his face. He made her no answer, but his eyes followed her as she settled herself before him, so she chose to reiterate her point, "It's not any sort of reflection upon you. It's not about strength or weakness, Gene, it's natural."

His non-committal murmur was enough to assure her of his disagreement. She sighed, placing her arms around him again and resting her cheek against his. They sat like that for several minutes, after which, Gene spoke in a low grunt.

" 's hot in here."

"Take that stupid vest off then." He chuckled slightly and complied, discarding the offending garment by throwing it to the other side of the room.

"There. Happy Lady Bolls?"

"Not massively," she teased, sharing Gene's relief at the removal of the clothing as his skin seemed to cool almost instantly beneath her fingers, "that vest isn't going to put itself in the washing pile, is it?"

"Bolly, if you think I'm lugging this arse out of bed at bastard o' clock in the morning for a vest, then I think you're mistaken."

"Ok." she said, placing a kiss at his hairline as the lay down once more, facing one another, "I'll just shut up then, shall I?"

"Now there's a good girl." Alex sniggered at his small input of humour, though could tell, due to his uneasy manner of his continued preoccupation.

"Just go to sleep, eh? You need rest for tomorrow." he nodded, accepting this, but after several moments, voiced the concerns he had been banding about since his sudden awakening.

"Whenever I sleep, I have the dreams."

"It's natural, Gene. It'll pass."

"Don't make it any less shit though, does it?"

"Well maybe you just need something different to dream about…"

"Like what?" he said, missing her suggestion entirely. She smiled at his naivety, surprised, though happy to spell it out to him.

"Maybe you should dream about me."

There was silence. He studied her, his expression many layered. He seemed to scrutinise her in amusement, sadness and fear all at once. With a rueful smile, he spoke.

"Dream about you? I already do, Bolls. That's the trouble."

* * *

"I'd like to call DCI Gene Hunt to the stand." the judge nodded. With some trepidation, Gene stood, Alex supporting him slightly. Threading his arms into the crutches, he hobbled over to the witness box, looking across into Trent's hard gaze, matching him in ferocity. Waving away the man who held out a helping arm, Gene chose to climb the steps himself. Though his legs throbbed, he was master of the pain. He had to be strong today. He had to send Trent down.

"Detective Chief Inspector." said the solicitor, with a nod, "If you'd just like to tell us exactly what happened earlier this year between September the fifth up until the sixteenth. Take your time, in your own words."

Gene took a deep breath, tore his eyes away from Trent and began to speak. It was as if flood gates were opening, everything and anything he had felt in that dark room came pouring out, all that had happened. He did not care who heard, but managed to check himself when he came close to the point of tears. No. He could not let Trent see him like that…not again.

"Thank you, DCI Hunt, now tell me about the sixteenth specifically. The day of the alleged attempted rape of DI Alex Drake." Gene steeled himself. He had known it was coming, but had not fully prepared himself for it. The dreams came flooding back, the absolute terror and despair. Looking up, he spotted Alex in the crowd, her face strained with anxiety. To her right and holding her hand, sat Millie, catching Gene's eye, the elderly woman nodded gently, spurring him on.

As his throat went dry, he gave a small cough, determined not to crack.

"As I said, Trent'd been saying all this stuff about her…lewd stuff, ever since he found out how I felt about her. He saw her on the telly when she did that appeal, and he started yelling all this…all this stuff through to me in the next room. It was just…horrible. Kept saying that she'd never want me and I was too old for her and that. Said she's want someone 'fresher', meaning 'imself."

"On the sixteenth itself?" Said the solicitor. Gene had been stalling until now. His voice grew croaky as he forced out the words he could barely say.

"He had a knife to me, and Alex- er, DI Drake, broke in to the flat and burst through the door. Then he stabbed me," Gene indicated the point where the knife had entered, below his heart. "and before she could move…he'd…he'd pinned her to the floor…and…"

"Just take your time." said the solicitor, gently. Gathering himself, Gene continued.

"I couldn't get to her…and his hands were…he started touching her. Started saying all this stuff. Said what he was going to do…and I'd just have to lie there and watch. I was trying to stand up, but I couldn't. I could hear her crying. She kept shouting my name…and I couldn't help her. I couldn't…" he broke off again, breathing heavily, his desire to defeat Trent the only thing keeping him from dissolving, there and then into tears. "He started trying to take her jeans off…then he undid his trousers…Oh God…" He drew a hand over his face, shaking slightly with the effort of keeping going. "He was making all these noises, moving around and I thought…I thought he'd done it. He was whispering all this stuff to me about her. Then he kissed her, and I knew there was nothing I could do."

* * *

On two counts of attempted murder, two counts of kidnap and illegal detainment and attempted rape, Kim Trent got twenty five years minimum.

The dreams stopped. Gene's legs mended. Alex and he got stronger than ever. All was well.

* * *

"Pass over the garibaldi's, sweet."

"Here you go."

"King of biscuits, eh Gene?"

"They're bloody fantastic."

The scene was a quaint one. Two old friends sat beside the fire on an unseasonably cold Autumn morning, drinking tea and pondering the irrefutable wonder of biscuits.

Now in her seventies, time had finally managed to catch up with Millie Stafford. Her wrinkles were more pronounced than ever, and fifty odd years of excessive drinking were beginning to take their toll upon her. Things had started to become significantly more difficult. Even Wednesday shopping day was an effort now.

Gene, however, was blissfully oblivious to Millie's problems. He had always found her front room a sort of safe haven. It was so far removed from CID, the loud, un-resting and profanity filled place that it was. In visiting Millie, Gene had found such solace. Over the last five or so years, he had fallen into a pattern of visiting once or twice a week, sometimes more. Alex regularly tagged along, who equally enjoyed the elderly lady's company, but more often than not, Gene went alone. On such occasions, the pair could sit in companionable silence, perhaps watching the television, speaking only to make some comment upon their viewing. At the other end of the scale, there were days in which they could barely stop talking to one another. Whether it was a heated debate or simply a hearty laugh, both parties always felt enriched for the experience. Today however, was more of the former type of visit, although Gene had come with more of a purpose than usual, so endeavoured to speak to her, although in usual circumstances, they would have both preferred to leave things silent.

_"_Millie?"

"Hnhm?" came the reply.

"I've been meaning to ask you something." his tone was serious, if a little uneasy. Sensing the importance of the subject, Millie reached, instinctively for the remote, turning off the television, leaving a ringing silence reverberating around the room. Gene swallowed. "Well, I need your advice really."

"Fire away." she said, good naturedly.

"Well…for some time now, I've been thinking-"

"Thinking, you?" she said, mock-incredulously. He merely smiled before continuing,

"I don't know how to say it. I don't know whether to just come out and ask…"

"Ask what?"

"I've been thinking about it for months really…I can't hide how I feel any more." Gene looked her dead in the face, "Millie…" he paused, "I want to ask Alex to marry me." he finished in a jumble of words, colour rising to his cheeks, "It's just after…everything…she was my rock, just as much as you were Millie…" a smile began to edge onto Millie's face,

"Well where's my proposal then, Gene?" she said, placing her hands on her hips in mock indignation.

"If Alex says no, then you're next in line." he returned the grin, "You know what? You're as good as a Mother to me, Mills." the smile fell off her face, being replaced by an unreadable expression. Oh Christ, what had he done now? Had he offended her? He quickly voiced his fears.

"Oh God, Millie. Look, just ignore me…I didn't mean to upset you…call you old or anything-" she cut him off.

"Upset me?" Gene felt the colour rise once again as he noticed her eyes begin to glisten, "How could you upset me? Do you have any idea what that means to me?" she reached across, placing her tea on the table, and pulling her best friend into a tight hug, "You're a brilliant man. Any woman would be lucky to have you, and if that girl is silly enough to say no, then I'll go and give her what-for, don't you worry."

They broke apart, Millie took his hands, her face alight with happiness. "When are you planning on doing it? How are you going to propose?" She gasped, "Have you got the ring?" Slightly disorientated, Gene took a while to answer.

"I don't know Millie…none of it…that's why I'm asking, see. I was wondering if you'd help me out with all that. You're like my woman correspondent." he joked, weakly.

"Course…of course Gene!" her excitement filled the room, causing a palpable atmosphere, which started to infect Gene as well, he soon felt himself matching her in positive anticipation. "Oh, I'm so happy for you! Oh, it's so brilliant!" she stood up, suddenly, he followed suit.

"Shall we do it?" he said, conspiratorially.

_"_What? Right now?" she replied, her eyes widening.

"Yeah! Let's do it!"

"Wait…do what?" said Millie, her excitement having momentarily run away with her, "You don't mean…?"

"Yeah. I do."

She practically bolted for the door, leaving Gene to gather up his coat, and reach into the cupboard under the stairs to grab one for her. He scurried along in her wake.

"Hurry up!" she yelled from outside the door. He complied, feeling as if his heart would burst out of his chest.

**A/N: Ok, ok. All the questions in the summary are answered in the first chapter, but I couldn't think how to word the rest of the plot into an interesting summary. Stay tuned for Galex wedding fluffy stuff, some Millie related sadness, and a few suprises. **


	2. Chapter 2: I'm Sorry Love

**A/N: Hi Guys! :D I've just realised that I've never really specified the circumstances in which these fics take place...I haven't really thought about it myself really. Well, it's kind of post series three, but without the whole moving on thing...you know what, I don't know. Just make up your own version. :D Hope you enjoy, and for God's sake: REVIEW! REVIEW! **

**R E V I EW ! **

"It has to be perfect."

"Oh really, Mills? I was just going to pick the first thing that fell out of a Christmas cracker."

They stood, noses pressed against the jeweller's window, Millie admiring the may sparkling bands, Gene merely overwhelmed by the sheer choice. This was going to be harder than he thought. No ring stood out. They all seemed to mould into one twinkling mass. He drew back slightly.

"What's up Gene?"

"How many designs can there be? They all look the bloody same." though trying to keep his voice unaffected and jocular, Millie had known him long enough to detect when he was feeling out of his depth.

"Just take your time, love. We don't have to get one right now, do we?" he shook his head, though still looked overwhelmed. "Let's try and narrow it down, eh? What do you know about what you want to buy her."

"Not gold," he replied, "Looks tacky…mind you, I don't want to get her silver and make her think I wouldn't fork out for it…but I'm not going the whole hog and getting a diamond the size of her head…that's not Bolly."

"Well you need a middle ground, darling," Millie explained, gently, "the best of both worlds." Gene nodded. "So," continued Millie, wringing her hands together, "Not gold. One to three simple, modest stones."

"Not overly extravagant. Don't want something that looks like Tinkerbell's vomit."

"Right." said Millie, mentally taking notes. "simple design…often look the best." Unconsciously, she looked down at her left hand. Her own rings glistened there.

"_Do you, Arthur Henry Stafford, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" Arthur turned to his fiancé, a broad grin stretching from ear to over-large ear. The young woman seemed to glow with happiness, the usual ruddy look of her cheeks more defined; radiant in a half flush along her jaw line. _

"_I do." she grinned at him, excitedly. _

"_And do you, Millicent Polly Jones, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"_

"_I do." _

"_Then it is my great honour and privilege, to pronounce you man and wife together. You may now kiss the bride." _

"_You weren't there Millie! You didn't see it! You don't understand!" He flopped down on the settee, head in hands, leaving Millie stood at the arm of the sofa, untying an apron from behind her back. _

"_No Arthur. I didn't see it, and how the hell am I supposed to bloody understand if you don't let me in! Let me understand! Let me help you Arthur!"_

"_You'd never understand," his voice sounded strained, pathetic. Anger swelled in Millie's stomach, "I had to watch as the light left men's eyes. My friends! If you'd seen what I'd seen, you'd-" she cut him off, the frustration braking the barriers she had so carefully placed with herself. _

"_I'd what? I'd what Arthur? Go insane? Top myself? Would it be too much for my fragile mind? That's all it boils down to with you, isn't it? You think I can't take it because I'm a woman! I want to be there for you Arthur!" she received no further answer. "Fine. FINE!" she said, her voice rising to a shriek as she threw the apron roughly to the floor, "I'm going to bed. Join me when you've stopped acting like a poof!" _

_Millie, _

_I'm sorry it had to be like this, I'm sorry I disappointed you. I'm weak Millie, weaker than you. I can't carry on like this. Doubtless, you would deal with everything ten times better than I ever could, but I'm glad you don't have to. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. _

_No matter what you think of me, of what I've done, remember that I will always love you, forever and a day. _

_I'm sorry, love. _

_Art _

_x _

_Looking up again from the rough, tear stained note the next morning, Millie once again looked upon the dangling body of her husband, the dressing gown chord from which he was hanging attached to one of the beams in the ceiling, the same beams they had admired before buying the house. Arthur had jokingly said it gave it a 'rugged, manly sort of feel.' _

_Millie had moved down to London from the outskirts of Bolton not long after that. She could look at the beams no longer. _

"Millie?" said Gene. It had been several seconds since her pontifications regarding the rings had died out, giving way instead to a distracted, forlorn silence. "You Ok, love?

"Me? Oh, I'm fine." said Millie, snapping easily back to her cheery attitude. Gene sensed that she was holding back something or another, but didn't feel like he should ask. "Now where was I? Oh yes, simple design…you don't want silver or gold- you're easy to please…oh, hang on. What about white gold?"

"You what?" he said.

"Look, over here." she took him by the arm, leading him over to the right display, "It's like silver in colour, but it won't look like you're a cheapskate. He studied the rings for a moment. It was an immense relief just to see one display, to have narrowed it down to a dozen rings or so.

"Yeah…yeah, that's what I'm after." in fact, they were more than what he was after, they were just right. After a short pause, he spoke again.

"That one." he jabbed at the glass with his forefinger.

"Which one?"

"Second from the left, third row down." Millie located the ring in question, her eyes widening.

"It's beautiful."

"Is it right for her?" he said, trying and failing to cover his nervousness.

"Right for her?" grinned Millie, "It's perfect, you twonk."

Grinning, Gene left Millie standing outside for a second as he asked for the ring to be put aside. Stepping back to join her, they began to walk off again back the way they'd came.

"Well, I've told him I'll be back with the cash by the end of the week."

"If you need to borr-"

"No," said, waving his hand slightly, "the Gene Genie always saves for a rainy day. Thanks for offering, love, but I couldn't take money off you."

"I'd want it back you know!" she said, tightening her lips in mock annoyance. Gene smiled, offering her his arm, which she took, gratefully. The jeweller's was, as it happened, only a few minutes worth of walk from Millie's front door, but even that small exertion had her flagging slightly. Upon reaching Millie's street, Gene came to a stop, turning to Millie.

"Thank you." he said, earnestly.

"You're more than welcome, sweetheart." smiled Millie. And he really was. Nothing had given Millie more pleasure over the last month or so than helping Gene find the perfect ring for the woman he loved. Though her exterior had aged and decayed, the teenage girl still remained, the romantic, the optimist and that undeniable thirst for life. Though her own complete happiness had died years ago with Arthur, she had found a way to partially rebuild it by doing everything in her power to ensure that Gene and Alex found what she had lost. She didn't have long left, and she wanted to spend that little time helping the man she had grown to love like a son and the woman she hoped to love like a daughter-in-law one of these days.

After entering the house, Gene kissed her on the cheek, bade her goodbye, and left.

The silence of the house roared in her ears. Flopping down onto the collapsed sofa, Millie allowed herself to drift into fantasies. Arthur was sitting beside her. Older, yes, but still the same man. He had his arm around her. They were talking, laughing.

Their grown-up son had just told them he was planning to propose.


	3. Chapter 3: Un bloody believable

**A/N: Some angsty shit for y'all. REVEIW! DO IT, DO IT NOOWWWW!**

The ring had been paid for and collected, it was tucked away in the pocket of his overcoat which was currently hung up in the hall. The coat's owner lay awake, staring up at the dark ceiling. What had he done? Sam Tyler had been like this, Gene had laughed at him, all love-struck, shitting himself every time he was reminded of the impending proposal. As Sam had drummed, nervously on his knee caps, Gene had called him something along the lines of 'a big fairy.' Now who was the big fairy? Gene was the big bloody fairy, complete with ballet skirt and pixie dust.

He and Millie had discussed how Gene was going to do it. He wanted it to be special…maybe take her away, do it under the Eifel Tower or something. But he knew he'd cock it up. Millie had wasted no time in impressing upon him the importance of the circumstances of the proposal. It was this discussion which had given rise to these uncomfortable feelings.

What on earth was he doing? He'd promised himself never to marry again, not after last time…he'd only married Karen because of the baby, and after the stillbirth…well, things hadn't gone too well. That was when Gene had started drinking, hardcore drinking, getting pissed off his tits every night just to come home and pester her for sex. God, no wonder she'd left. It was losing Sam that'd done it. Having a best friend, someone to confide in, as much as he hated to admit it, had really helped, but after he was gone, there was nothing to stop him descending into alcoholism, setting himself up for the painful climb back to normality. Ok, so he wasn't exactly on The Wagon, but he could manage the drink now, he didn't truly need it any more.

Why was he doing this again? Why? What had possessed him? Weren't they fine without all that bollocks? Gene sighed. His eye was caught by the hipflask on the bedside table. No, no. He didn't need it now, though his head told him he did, his gut told him that he didn't. He always trusted his gut. It was invariably right.

But what did his gut tell him now? It was hard to distinguish. On the one hand, he'd struck lucky here, (would he ever even meet a woman better than Alex, let alone attain one?) but somewhere, deep inside, lay the nagging, commitment-phobic, lone wolf instinct, telling him repeatedly to get out. Get out now.

But then he remembered the hours of solitude in that room, before Millie had come. He remembered how he had pined for Alex.

_"I don't tend to kiss old men, Guv."_

She had always been there for him, always. She'd made him feel like a man again that time he'd done his back in. She'd looked after him without any thought for personal gain, without any sort of though, in fact. She'd told him since that it just seemed right; the natural thing to do.

And this was natural. It felt natural. She didn't demand that he constantly adorn her with heart-felt professions of love, she knew that he wasn't a romantic man. She didn't expect him to tell her he loved her every single day; she wasn't that insecure. The relationship was not jaded, they had not lost their spark, but they also didn't feel the need to leap on one another every half hour. It just seemed right. They just seemed to work.

* * *

"I'm telling you Guv, you're barking up the wrong tree."

"An' I'm telling you Bolls: sod off."

The rest of the team sat back in bliss. This was how things should be. The Guv and DI Drake were arguing again and, despite being shut in Gene's office, their voices carried into main CID, rattling the blinds as they went.

"You're un-bloody-believable!"

"I know Bolls, but keep that kind 'o talk inside the bedroom-eh?"

"Bastard."

"Ooh, how very creative of you! Got any more?" The argument had now descended into full on insults, the drugs case forgotten.

"For once," stormed Alex, marching round his desk to stand beside him, glaring down into his defiant eyes, "why can't you just admit you're bloody wrong?"

"Because I'm not bloody wrong!" he said, his voice rising dangerously. He stood up, suddenly to meet her, anger radiating from his every pore.

"Fine then!" she said, shrilly, "FINE! Just do it your way, totally piss it up, as per usual, but don't come crying to me when you end up in front of the Super." she stalked towards the door, casting a look to kill over her shoulder at him as she paused, "And you can forget about dinner tonight!"

The door slammed.

* * *

It was for this reason that Gene came to be sitting in the pub with Ray, three hours later, instead of at some fancy restaurant Alex had picked out for them, nursing a pint and laughing raucously.

"Nah, Ray. I'd rather be here drinking than at that shithole."

"Where were you off to?"

"Some French place." Ray grimaced in response,

"Ma'am still pissed off then?"

"Looks like it." he muttered, taking a healthy swig from his glass, raising a hand to wipe the beer-head moustache which had collected on his top lip.

"Probably 'er time of the month." smiled Ray.

" 'er time of the day more like."

"Trouble in paradise then?"

"No more than usual," said Gene, with a half smile, "wouldn't be the same without the arguments, mind," Ray grunted as a sign of his ascent, distracted now, from Gene by the woman sitting alone at the far end of the bar, her legs crossed and painted fingernails drumming on a glass of whiskey. Gene followed his gaze. "eh up Raymondo, she's a bit of alright, isn't she?"

"Not half." agreed Ray, covertly admiring the woman over the top of his pint.

"Looks like she's been stood up."

"You reckon?" said Ray, visibly straightening himself as his hopes raised skywards.

"Yeah." said Gene, "This is when you pounce." Ray leant forward slightly, moving one foot from his barstool, but stopped however, as he seemed to check himself.

"Nah, just after a quiet drink." he said, with a furtive look at his DCI.

"Don't mind me," grinned Gene, "best be getting off anyway." and with that, he rose from the bar and moved towards the door.

"Thanks Guv." said Ray, returning the smile, moving slyly over towards the lone red-head on the pre-text of ordering himself another drink. Gene called across the room to Ray, in a manner which he knew would easily carry to the woman.

"See you tomorrow at 9 o' clock sharp DI Carling." he said, pulling on his coat and putting particular stress upon Ray's rank. The woman looked, first at Gene, and then, in interest, turned her gaze to Ray, signalling to Gene that his words had had the desired effect. Ray, noticing the her attention looked over at Gene gratefully as he answered:

"Night Guv."

As Gene closed the door behind him, Gene smiled at the blurry shape of the woman shuffling her way over to Ray through the frosted glass.

* * *

"What the hell?" Alex sat with her arms and legs crossed on the sofa upon his return.

"What?" he replied, moodily.

"Where have you been?"

"The pub!" he said, defensively, raising his eyebrows

"er…Dinner?" she stated, danger radiating from her every pore.

"What happened to 'you can forget about dinner' then?" he said, marvelling at the unfairness of it all.

"Well I didn't mean that, did I?" she spat, standing up, suddenly.

"Oh, I'm sorry." said Gene, riled, "how bloody stupid of me. Of course that was one of those things you say, but you don't mean. How on earth could I miss that one?"

"You're acting like a bloody child!" she said.

"I'm acting like a child? I'm not the one who expects others to instinctively know whether or not I mean what I bloody say. You expect me just to know that you weren't being serious? Come on, Bolls, get a grip!"

Big mistake.

Her eyes flashed with fury. Drawing herself up to her full height, she barked back at him,

"You know what your problem is Gene, among many, many others? You can't take anything seriously. You don't take work seriously, you don't take me seriously and you bloody well don't take us seriously!" she finished with a growl, her breast heaving.

For a second, Gene merely fumed.

"Right." he said, the level way in which he spoke far worse than his shout, "Right," he repeated, "so I don't take anything seriously? You sure about that?" teeth gritted, tore the tiny box out of his coat pocket and slammed it onto the coffee table. "How's that for bloody serious?"

He stormed from the house, the loud bang of the door reverberating through the flat as Alex stared, dumbstruck, at the ring box now sitting silently on the varnished wood.


	4. Chapter 4: You heard the lady

**A/N: My authorial notes are becoming less inventive due to lack of sleep. Just read it, review it and sod off. (Now THERE'S a Gene Hunt-style request!) Enjoy :D Xx**

It was beautiful. For several minutes, Alex simply sat and stared at it. Set into the white gold band was one simple stone. A modest, yet beautiful diamond winked up at her, twinkling gently as it reflected the lamplight. So far, she had not been able to bring herself to touch it, irrationally imagining that it would melt away if she did so. Having gaped at it for some time, however, Alex finally convinced herself that it was, in fact, a real, solid and tangible object.

Reaching out a tentative hand, she touched the stone gently with a trembling forefinger, letting it rest there for a moment before finally picking it up. She held it delicately between her thumb and index finger, rolling them around the smooth metal. Dare she? It had been intended for her…surely there was no harm…

It fit perfectly. Slipping it on, a smile crept onto Alex's face, no adjustments would be needed, it was as if it had been made for her. It felt as weightless as if it were not there, but the reassuring slight pressure told her that it was.

Having been so over-awed with the ring itself, Alex had almost forgotten the circumstances in which it had come to be in her possession. With a jolt in the pit of her stomach, she was forcibly reminded. The argument of only ten or so minutes ago seemed stupid now, an insignificant blot in the far distant past. Years worth of things seemed to have happened since then.

Alex raised a hand, slapping herself in the forehead in sheer frustration. Why had she been so stupid? She'd cancelled dinner in the first place, and how the hell had she expected him to know that she wasn't really serious? Men didn't get stuff like this at the best of times, and here she'd been downright cryptic.

Suddenly, it hit her. He had been planning to propose that night, at the restaurant. Now she'd blown it, totally blown it.

Half an hour later, Alex entered CID. Surely, if he were to go anywhere in one of these moods, it would have been the office. She was surprised, therefore, not to find him sitting grumpily at his desk; the room was deserted. After a few second's thought, she decided that he must have stopped over at Ray's or something, dejectedly making her way back home. Perhaps it was best leaving it until the morning anyway, give him a bit of time to calm down.

* * *

_Gene let out a sigh of relief as her shoes clicked away. He didn't like having to resort to hiding behind his desk, but he didn't think he could stand another half hour of shouting. He knew that she'd be wanting rid of him, would slam that ring back into his hand the next time they met, so, irrationally, he felt that by putting off the meeting until at least tomorrow, he could have at least a few more hours in which he and Alex were officially a couple. _

_Again sighing audibly, he returned to the Scotch bottle clasped in his hand. _

* * *

Confused for a second about waking alone, Alex remembered, with the force of being hit by a speeding bus, the events of the previous evening. Turning over, she studied the ring box on the bedside table, thinking about what it contained and the man who had given it to her.

She had been right in assuming that he would not be back that morning, and the empty space next to her seemed to radiate a deathly chill, as if mocking her, a physical reminder of her foolishness. She had to find him, had to talk to him…but what to say? How could she say what she felt? Everything she thought of sounded stupid, cliché…

Pointless thoughts zoomed around her usually so organised mind. She needed help…but where from? _'Where from? Where from?' _she mentally chastised herself. Where else had she turned over these past few years? Who else had been there, regardless?

* * *

"Millie?" said Alex, her voice slightly raised, stepping back from the door and craning her neck up towards the bedroom window. She had knocked about two minutes ago, and nobody had come. Knocking again, Alex waited anxiously on the doorstep, fingering the little box in her jacket pocket.

When finally Millie came, Alex's words were taken away by her appearance. The bags under her eyes had become, deeper, more defined since the last time thy had seen each other only a few days ago. Millie looked…there was only one way to describe it: Millie looked ill.

Alex opened her mouth to speak again, to enquire if everything was alright, but Millie beat her to it, breaking into a broad grin and ushering her in, talking excitedly.

"Ooh, so he's done it then? Oh, I bet you're so excited-" sitting down on the squashy sofa, Alex waited until Millie paused for breath before breaking the bad news.

"Er, well he's not exactly done it." she pulled the box out of her pocket, as if by way of proof. Millie sat, intrigued and shocked as Alex told her the story of the previous night's events. She told her how she didn't see any way Gene would accept her apology now, how she'd utterly humiliated him without meaning to. "I honestly don't know why I did it Millie…I just didn't think he was planning to propose or anything…we were just having an argument, and the next thing I know, he pulls this out of his pocket," she raised the box in the air slightly, "God Millie, what do I do? I've got no bloody idea where he is." Millie sat very still for some time, studying her wrinkled hands. Flicking her eyes back the Alex's face, she gave her sound and well experienced advice, the ghost of a smile playing about her thin lips.

"Look Alex, If I know Gene, then I couldn't imagine him getting down on one knee, could you? I couldn't imagine him reciting a sonnet or owt, that's just not him, is it? And I tell you what I know for sure about him Alex, I know that he's got one hell of a soft spot for you, he has. He'd forgive anything of you. Like you say love, it was just one of your usual scraps, this one just so happened to involve an engagement ring." Alex smiled at this as Millie continued, "Perhaps it's better it happened like this. That way there's no overly romanticised proposals. You know he wants you to marry him now, don't you? All you need to do is tell him you feel the same."

"But what if he doesn't want to anymore, after last ni-"

"Oh, speak sense girl," said Millie, rolling her eyes, "you know as well as I do that he's nuts about you. You want your heads banging together." Alex smiled again. Millie had an amazing proficiency in making others feel more confident about any situation, no matter how dire it may be.

"Now then," said Millie, patting Alex's knee as she stood up, "stop feeling sorry for yourself, and I'll stick the kettle on. Tea's what we need at this moment in time." She shuffled from the room.

As the kettle clicked on, a rapping came from the front door.

"Alex love, will you just pop and get that for me? Think it's the window cleaner. There's a few bob on the shelf if he's asking."

Moving obediently to admit the window cleaner, Alex opened the door, not to the window cleaner, but instead to…

"Gene."

"Oh." He stood, framed in the doorway, hands in pockets and the familiar pout fixed upon his face. He turned as if to leave, but found his exit impeded by the hand gripping onto his sleeve.

"Stay."

He looked round at her, looking into her eyes for a second, before shrugging slightly, and stepping past her into Millie's front room. They stood in awkward silence for a moment, until Millie herself entered from the kitchen carrying two cups of tea. Taking in the scene instantaneously, she placed the cups on the table and spoke.

"Great timing Gene. Now, I'm going upstairs for a bit, and I want all this sorted out before I come down. Got it? And don't think you're leaving until you do." and with that, she stepped smartly past them and up the stairs, leaving the two remaining parties stuttering slightly. When she had vanished onto the first floor, Gene turned to Alex, tentatively.

"Well you heard the lady: let's talk."

* * *

Upstairs, Millie sat on her bed. It had been about a quarter of an hour. There was no shouting, (surely a good sign,) and the only sounds she had heard were the gentle rumble of voices. She had not been listening in on the conversation, just trying to sense when it was safe for her to go down. Some conversations needed to be private. Sometimes, two people needed to discuss things without distraction or interruption. This was between them and nobody else, and by no means did she want to interfere. When the sounds subsided slightly, Millie decided that it was now or never. Exiting the room, she made her way slowly downstairs, nervous as to what she might find.

She found Gene, and she found Alex. The latter was wearing the most beautiful ring on the second finger of her left hand.


	5. Chapter 5: I'm not a bloody beanbag

**A/N: Kind of a here-and-there chapter. Starting to develop themes involving Millie and the CID couples. It's not quite working. Ah well. Enjoy it anyway. (and by the way, I'm going to keep leaving little hints throughout the chapter what I'd like you to do once you've finished reading it!)**

"Hello Jasmine, love."

It was Wednesday. Wednesday was shopping day. Millie smiled pleasantly at the girl behind the counter in the corner shop, the girl smiled back, even wider than usual. "What're you looking so happy about?" Jasmine grinned again, blushing to the roots of her red hair.

"Well," she said, leaning towards Millie conspiratorially, "I met a man last night."

"Oooh!" said Millie, joining Jasmine in giggling like a school girl, "Tell us about him then!" Jasmine bit her lip, twisting a lock of hair around her finger, coyly.

"His name's Ray. He's a police officer." Millie gasped, recognition bubbling within her.

"Hang on, love. You don't mean Ray Carling do you? Detective Inspector?"

"Yeah, that's him." Jasmine looked momentarily confused, "What've you been up to Millie, robbing banks?" the women laughed again.

"No, no. My bank robbing days are long gone love. No, you know that bloke I knock about with? The one who was on crutches for a bit?"

"Ooh-" Jasmine suddenly placed the man who Ray had been drinking with. She knew she'd seen him before. "That's Ray's boss, isn't it?"

"Yeah, that's Gene," nodded Millie, "Small world, eh?"

"Isn't it just? I've been meaning to ask for a while anyway Millie, what's going on there? You got yourself a toy-boy?" Jasmine raised her eyebrows mock-suggestively. Millie let out a snort of laughter.

"Unfortunately for me he's taken, love. No, he's just a friend. More like a son that anything else. As a matter of fact, we picked out an engagement ring for his fiancée the other day."

"Ahh, that's lovely. What's her name?"

"She works with Ray and Gene. Alex Drake she's called."

"Yeah, Ray did mention a DI Alex Drake, but I thought she was a bloke…"

The conversation continued in similar frame for a long while. Millie enquired about Jasmine's mother, Jasmine told Millie about her little cousins, and gradually the week's news was passed from one to the other.

**A/N: REVIEW!**

* * *

"I think she's the one mate…" said Ray, dreamily, absent mindedly throwing balled up pieces of paper into the bin, a cigarette hanging casually out of his mouth. Chris look horrified.

"No offence like mate. But you called me a poof just for saying I liked Shaz a couple of month ago…and look at you now." Chris drew back a few inches, worried now, as Ray propelled his swivel chair around slightly, a lazy sort of smile playing vaguely about his features.

"Yeah mate, but then I hadn't felt it," he stared off into space, eyes glazed into a look of sheer pleasure, as if a divine apparition had appeared somewhere above Chris's left ear, "I know what it's like now. I can…feel it."

"Are you high or something?"

Chris's disquiet and Ray's pontifications upon the subject of l'amoure were unfortunately then interrupted by a gruff voice. Gene poked his head out of his office door, looking intensely awkward.

"Right. Shut up you lot. Announcement," he barked, and then, with the air of a man wanting to get something over with as soon as possible, he continued, "Me an' Bolls are engaged. So we reserve the right not to buy our own drinks tonight…carry on then." he disappeared back into his office, closing the blinds quickly. Alex, who had been carefully concealing it all morning, exposed the ring on her left hand and holding it out for Shaz to dash over and admire.

"Bloody hell." muttered Chris to himself. CID, in its entirety had gone completely insane. What was worse, what was ten times worse is that he now had to accept, once and for all that the Guv and DI Drake were together…havin' sex like. (as his mind so eloquently put it.) It was wrong…it was just so wrong.

He did not make a habit of imagining his colleges in bed with one another, but for some reason with this particular paring, he could not help but be curious. Did they argue while they did it? About whether the other was doing it right? He shivered unconsciously as a particularly vivid mental image sprung to mind…

'_For God's sake Gene! I'm not a bloody beanbag!' _

'_This is how a real man does it, Bolls. Get used to it!'_

Suddenly, Chris was not looking forward to beans on toast in the canteen anymore.

At least he now had two weddings to look forward to, though one a lot more imminent than the other. He felt as though an ice cube had dropped into his stomach as he was reminded: his wedding to Shaz was only two weeks away.

Invitations had been dispatched and everyone from the milkman up seemed to be attending. Chris was dreading it. Of course he wanted to marry Shaz…but this was different. It was like being thrust onto a brightly lit stage.

**A/N: Like the beanbag thing? Hate the beanbag thing? Whatever you felt, REVIEW!**

* * *

As always when one is dreading something, the days feel like hours and the hours themselves become minutes, as they did for Chris over the next week and a half. Before he knew it, Saturday was coming at him with the force of a speeding bullet, and before he could even register that, he found himself dressed in a suit, smoking heavily around the side of the church and considering making a run for it.

Everyone would be watching. All his friends…everyone. If he cocked up this day he'd be humiliated in front of everyone he knew. He had managed to give Ray, his best man, the slip, and was relishing the solitude; very soon, there would be people all around him. Watching, waiting. Watching him. All their eyes boring into him, just waiting for him to mess up. Ray and the Guv of course, would never let him live this down and DI Drake would look at him with that piteous look she reserved just for him. None of this mattered to him. What really bothered him, what made his sweat break in cold bursts, was the possibility that he'd mess up the entire day…Shaz's day.

He couldn't do it. He had to leave. Looking around, furtively, he dropped the fag-end on the ground, extinguished it with his shoe and made to leave.

"DC Skelton?" He looked round. She seemed to have materialised out of nowhere.

"Millie! Erm, Mrs Stafford, I mean…" he tried, unsuccessfully to hide his alarm.

"Afraid I'm late Christopher. Sorry about that, but my joints are playing hell. Didn't think I'd be able to come, but I really wanted to be here, you know, Shaz is a lovely girl." Chris made a low noise of ascent, fiddling with his buttonhole, nervously. Millie took a step closer.

"You put me in mind of a man who doesn't want to be here."

"Yeah." said Chris, "You could say that."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I can't go through with it Millie."

"Then don't." she said, simply. He looked at her, nonplussed.

"You what?"

"Don't go through with it. That's fine. You leave the poor girl at the alter. Jilt her. If you don't love her, perhaps it's for the best-""No, it's not that I-"

"Well what does it matter that she's spent months, maybe years planning this. What does it matter that she used to dream about marrying the man she loved ever since she were a little girl. No Chris, doesn't matter."

"Does matter." grunted Chris, suddenly, anger flaring in his eyes.

"Of course it does." said Millie with a smile, "You love her then?"

"More than anything. I do, really I do."

"Then where's the problem Chris?" said Millie, inclining her head slightly. He thought for a moment before vocalising his worries. They had sounded a lot more important in his mind.

"I…I don't want to cock it up…What if I make a mistake in the vows or something?"

"Do you often make mistakes Chris?"

"Yeah." he said, looking down.

"And she agreed to marry you?" he looked up again, his eyes meeting hers, currently crinkled into a smile. "Oh, Chris. You could make a dozen mistakes and she'd still love you. Don't you see that?"

And he did see. For once in his life, Chris really did understand. He loved Shaz. She loved him. That was the only thing that mattered.

"Right then Christopher," said Millie, with the air of one getting down to business. "looks like we're going to a wedding." she held out her arm, which Chris took, grinning.

"Fab."

Arm in arm the walked into the entrance hall of the church with only minutes to spare. As Chris was chided by Ray, Millie snuck through the double doors and took her place next to Gene in the pews.

A wedding took place that day. Miss Granger became Mrs Skelton and Mr Skelton became the happiest man alive. This was owed, in part, to the fact that during the service he didn't mess up in the slightest.

Well, except for tripping over Shaz's train and landing in her Aunt June's lap…but otherwise he did quite well.

**A/N: RE-fricking-VIEW! REVIEW! Thank you. ^^**


	6. Chapter 6: Ray Carling being earnest

**A/N: Ok, I know this is a very, very quick update, but I'm hoping it'll give me warrant to slack off for a bit. Hopes yall like it... *ahem* REVIEW! (oh, and, by the way, the ninja goblins are still avaliable for odd jobs, so they could be after you for reading and not reviewing. The black belt squirrels just aren't up to the job really...ho hum...but less of my worries...read it!)**

Gene sat in his office, fiddling with a pencil and staring moodily at the desk. The absence of Shaz and Chris-due to their long awaited honeymoon- was hitting the team hard. Ray was too busy staring into space and smiling far too much to get anything done. Alex alone was doing something productive. Not that she needed to; for some reason, the criminal scum of London seemed to have been on strike for the last few days. Not even a druggie or two.

Gene looked up to see a young PC crossing the room, looking terrified and making his way towards the DCI's office. He knocked and Gene grunted to admit him. Trembling, he opened the door.

"Er, Mr...er DCI Hunt?" he stuttered.

"What?" muttered Hunt.

"Er, just got a message from the Super…"

Five minutes later, the PC left, and Gene followed him out into the main body of CID, addressing the remaining members of his team.

"Right, you lot. Good news. The world's a better place as of half six this morning. Trent's dead." Alex looked up in alarm, she had hoped never to here that man's name again, even Ray was roused enough by the news to give Gene his full attention.

"What? How?" said Alex, looking up at her fiancée disbelievingly.

"Fight over a card game. Stabbed in the side of the head."

"Good bloody riddance." said Ray, smiling slightly.

"Too good for 'im." muttered Gene, before turning back to his office, crossing it in two strides and thumping back down on the chair.

Gene had needed to see it for himself. At the next available opportunity, he slipped out of the office making hasty excuses, climbed into his car and drove off in the direction of the hospital.

* * *

"In here Mr Hunt." The man gestured to a door, tapping in a pin-number to admit him. Gene nodded at the white coated man and entered the room he had indicated. Gene barely noticed as the electronic door clicked shut behind him.

There was Trent's body on a slab.

Gene steeled himself, walking slowly and resolutely towards the body. That thing had been the vessel of his tormentor. Behind the closed lids, Gene knew, lay the cold eyes. The wound was instantly visible and ghastly, a great bloody welt forged into the skin. Looking on grimly, Gene finally accepted it: The Captor was gone.

It was then that it all went dark.

* * *

It was Wednesday, and as Wednesday was Shopping day, Millie could be found hanging over the counter at the corner shop, laughing and chatting with Jasmine. The latter had been strangely quiet that day, and Millie's spider senses had started to tingle.

"What's up love? You don't seen yourself today." Jasmine conceded, smiling in a resigned way.

"Nothing much Millie…it's just Ray, you know that copper I've been seeing?"

"Very well." smiled Millie. It was true, over the last few years, Millie had observed Ray along with the other members of CID. She could tell, just from his manner that he and relationships were not the best of palls. In fact, all the time she had known him, Ray had never had a steady girlfriend…or, in fact, any sort of girlfriend, only numerous one-night-stands. It was not at all a surprise to Millie that Ray, when in a relationship, would be having trouble.

"It's…well…" Jasmine hesitated, as if trying to form the right words, "he can be a bit…well…he's a bit full on."

"How so?" asked Millie, piling oranges into her basket and speaking to Jasmine over her shoulder.

"We've only been going out for a few weeks…and he's just a bit…well not clingy as such…" she tailed off, but she did not need to finish her sentence. Millie could guess the rest. She imagined that Jasmine was one of the only women Ray had ever truly cared about. Of course, he had been attracted to her by looks alone, but when one saw them together, it was clear that to him, it was deeper. This was a woman he could talk to. There was no banter, as such, in their relationship, (as there was in that of the Guv and DI Drake,) but they worked well, almost as a result of this. At Chris and Shaz's wedding, they had sat at their table talking none-stop, almost to the point that they had neglected others around them. It was only natural that Ray should act in a way that he felt would preserve what they had when, ironically, it was doing the exact opposite.

"He seems a little bit too earnest?" supplied Millie. Jasmine nodded.

"Yeah, it's almost like he's taking the piss sometimes…it's like he's too polite, know what I mean? He's not like he was in the first couple of days…"

Millie did not answer this question directly, trying, as soon as possible, to change the subject and hurriedly complete her shopping. Millie knew that for the first couple of days, Ray had been expecting nothing more than a brief fling based purely on sex, but as their relationship developed, Ray had begun to depend on it not being.

* * *

"Mr Hunt! No need to worry. Power's gone. The door won't open till it's back. Sorry mate." The voice seeped into the room.

"Oh that's fine. That's just bloody fine! Leave me in 'ere with a stiff then! Not just any stiff either! That bloke tried to rape me fiancée and stabbed me in the chest, and let me tell you _mate _death's only improved him slightly!" he seethed with anger.

"Sorry DCI Hunt. Won't be long."

Cursing profusely, Gene began to pace the room. It was taking a damn sight longer than a while and there are only so many times one can pace a room. In the end, Gene slumped down into a corner and rested his head on the wall, looking up to the white panelled ceiling.

He blanched. He remembered the last time he had studied a ceiling in any sort of detail. Looking down quickly, he tried to detach himself from these unwelcome thoughts and, mentally shaking himself, he studied the floor instead.

Wringing his hands slightly, Gene tried, unsuccessfully, to distract himself. He did not like confined spaces. He always liked to have a way out at all times, even elevators had to be avoided. He remembered back, only a month or so after his recovery, Gene had been in CID, hobbling around on his crutches. A meeting with the Super had taken him to the forth floor and, in his weakened condition he had been forced to use the elevator to get there and to get back.

* * *

_Gene had been left annoyed and agitated- a meeting with the Superintendent tended to have such an effect- and jabbed the down button with unnecessary force, waiting impatiently for the elevator to arrive. When it eventually did, Gene pushed his way through the doors, now jabbed the button for CID's floor. The doors closed shakily as the lift gave a rumble and began to descend. _

_With a judder and a shake, the lift had ground to a halt between floors, clearly broken. Gene had stood for a while, waiting for something to happen. It did not. He was trapped. _

_Panic overthrew him, sweat began to drip from his hairline, down his neck and down the back of his shirt. He prodded the buttons, mashing them with the palm of his hand, not caring where it took him. God, he would even chance a trip to the basement if it meant he could get out of here…out of this tiny metal prison._

"_ALEX!" he finally gave up with the buttons and began to shout, banging on the walls desperately. "ALEX!" his crutches had slipped from his hands, causing his healing legs to crumple beneath him. He was now sprawled on the filthy elevator floor, "A-Alex?" he had succumbed to the urge, he had started to sob, tears of anguish forming in his eyes, "HELP! HELP ME! ALEX! P-please! Bolly…" his entire body began to shake with the force of his sobs, his breathing closer to hyperventilation than anything else. He let out one final, last ditch attempt to attract attention. He screamed, a horrific, gut wrenching howl before giving in, just sitting there shaking on the floor. There was no point. Perhaps Gene Hunt was meant to be caged. Maybe this was what he deserved. Was this penance for his…his well, sins? Of course, he'd been a bit of a bastard in his time but, surely, he couldn't deserve this. His mind had then turned, helplessly to his one option: he had to end it. _

_A quivering hand reached into his coat. Surely the pocket knife would do it…but where? Throat maybe? No…wrists. Wrists didn't hurt so much… _

_He flicked out a blade and closed his eyes. Raising the knife, he readied himself._

_The lift began to move again. Dropping the knife, Gene laughed with relief, a laugh which turned almost immediately to more manic, screaming sobs. _

_The lift stopped again, the bell chimed; the doors opened . Looking up slightly, Gene caught sight of the woman he had wanted to see above all others. He held out his arms to her, still sobbing pathetically. He was like a child, cowering in the corner of a lift, legs at funny angles, wanting to draw comfort from its protector. She had taken him into her arms wordlessly and rocked him until the sobs subsided. _

_They had never spoke of it again. They didn't need to. With Gene back on his feet, he and Alex and walked back into CID, side by side. Neither of their faces betrayed the fact that anything strange had just happened. _

* * *

The lights flicked back on again and Gene stood up, mere seconds before the door was opened from the outside. The white coated man smiled sheepishly as he held the door open.

"Sorry DCI Hunt. Cock up with the electricians."

"Don't worry about it," said Gene, over jovially, "…no harm done." he added.


	7. Chapter 7: Impact

**A/N: After the last chapter, I realised that slightly more plot is needed. Have injected plot with thanks to SephyRose and Trashcat. Kind of a sad chapter, sorry and all. Please review my feeble efforts. **

Shaz was bleeding. This was unusual bleeding. She had begun to bleed heavily…she usually came on around the start of the month but she had started on the eighteenth...There was something unnatural about it. She was in twice as much pain as usual, and yesterday had been forced to screw up her eyes in an effort not to cry out. It was not right…

She didn't like going to the doctors at the best of times, and when it came to something like this, she could hardly bear the idea. But desperate times…

* * *

They needed milk. She had told him to get milk, she had expressly told him to get the milk, but oh no, Gene Hunt won't pop to the shops for some milk! No, he won't stoop that low! She had snatched up the keys to the Quattro, ignoring his indignant cries, and was now driving like a woman possessed around London.

She rounded a corner, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently…she'd have to boil the kettle again now, no way would it still be hot enough for a decent cup of tea by the time she got back. She did not notice the flurry of activity to her right.

It happened so fast. A movement. A squeal of brakes. Impact.

She stared from behind the wheel. The man lay motionless, a trickle of blood from his hairline seeping into his open, unseeing eyes. Even as she leapt from the car and attempted to resuscitate him, she knew it was too late. The leaden feeling settling in her gut told her what her heart simply refused to accept.

Alex Drake had killed a man.

* * *

Ray leant against the brick wall and smoked moodily. He and Jasmine had had a row. All he'd done was to offer to take her coat and she'd gone off on one. He scraped his foot on the concrete, watching stones scatter before it. He looked up at the sound of his name.

"DI Carling?"

"Millie." he nodded to her in acknowledgement, briefly meeting her gaze.

"You're not looking too happy." She observed it simply, but her face and eyes told of something else. As Ray reinstated eye contact, he could not help but feel that she was scrutinising him, analysing and scanning him for the source of his mood. It struck Ray for a moment how odd it was that this did not bother him in the slightest. If it were anyone else, he would feel uncomfortable, but with Millie…she had a strange power when it came to putting people at ease. One felt as if it was possible to confide anything to this woman. She simply seemed to radiate trustworthiness. The spell was broken by a hacking cough.

Millie doubled over slightly, both hands to her mouth. Her whole body convulsed with the force of it.

"Er-you alright?" Ray said, awkwardly, stepping forward. Millie held up a hand as she recovered herself as if to wave his concern away.

"Fine love, fine," she straightened up again, smiling, "So I take it all's not well on planet Ray?"

" 's been better." he admitted.

"Jas, is it?" Millie pressed.

"Hmm." he confirmed.

"Ray," he looked up again, "now I'm not saying I know everything, and I'm not always right, but I've seen my fair share of the world, and I was wondering if you'd take advice from an old bird like me." Ray smiled at this.

"Well, I'm listening, love. I'm fresh out of ideas." Millie inclined her head slightly in acknowledgement as she began.

"I take it that Jasmine's argument goes along the lines of you being too intense?"

"Summin like that." muttered Ray, colouring slightly at the frank way in which she expressed his faults.

"Now, if I'm not mistaken, you don't normally go for serious relationships?"

"I don't." he had to admit this much, at least.

"So when you first met our Jasmine, you behaved very differently towards her then than you do now."

"Yeah…well, I thought it was just-"

"a bit of in out, in out, shake it all about?"

"Could put it that way…"

"You were yourself when you first met her, weren't you?"

"Yeah."

"So now you're with her, you're panicking. You don't want to lose her, do you Ray?"

"Well no, course I don't, I-"

"So you've started putting on an act. Being the perfect gentlemen?" He was silent. The truth of her words stung him slightly, though when he looked up, her expression was soft. "Ray. Has it ever occurred to you that she might not want a bloke who throws his coat over puddles for her…she was attracted to you Ray, you. Let her have you. Don't give her the gentleman. Respect her, yes, be kind, yes, but don't change who you are for her. No woman deserves that. You can only be happy with a woman who loves you for you."

He stared at her blankly, mouth desperately trying to form words, of gratitude or of rebuke he could not tell.

"If course, love doesn't come into the equation just yet, but you feel something, right?" he nodded numbly. "Well that's a start, it's a start. I'll see you soon Ray." and with that, she departed, leaving his mind racing.

* * *

Miscarriage. The word seemed to echo around her head. A dead, harrowing sound. She had had a miscarriage, that had been the blood. The blood had been…

A baby had been inside her. For a few, precious days, a tiny life had been growing within her. Shaz had been a Mother without ever knowing. Now, what remained of that life was slipping through her fingers. Her body had failed at its primary function.

As she lay on the bed, tears seeping into the mattress, she sung a muffled, half remembered lullaby; the first and last her child would ever been sung. When the song petered out, she allowed herself to wail into the sheets.

* * *

Gene had his arm around his fiancée.

"It was an accident love. It was an accident. Come on Bolls…s'okay darling." she had buried her face into his shoulder as the body was zipped into a bag. "Be strong now love. You didn't mean to."

At these words, she pulled away from him slightly.

"Didn't mean to! I know I didn't mean to! But-but, try telling his Mum I d-didn't mean to-o!" she dissolved once more into tears.

Lifting her bodily, Gene carried her to the car he had arrived at the scene in. He placed her into the front passenger seat as carefully as if she had been made of glass. As an afterthought, he removed his coat and covered her with it. Alex appreciated the familiar scent, though this did not prevent her from continuing to cry, though now silently.


	8. Chapter 8: What She'd Done

**A/N: Is this the first chapter without Millie in it? Oh Christ, I think it might be! No wait...no it isn't. Still, I need my Millie fix, so during this chapter, she's sitting at home reading a Ruth Rendell. Quite a sadish kind of chapter coming up. Doubt it'll have you in tears mind...anywayyyyy, tell me how awful I am via reviews! XD**

"B-but…Billy was just with me…it was two hours ago….he's not, he can't be."

"Is this his driving licence Mrs Jacobs? We found in in the deceased's possessions." the shaking woman peered at it before letting out a strangled shriek and bursting into tears. Ray turned to Gene with a grimace, placing a hand on the woman' shoulder, "Come on, love, down the station. I'm afraid we're going to need you to identify the-" but he was cut off by another loud shriek from Mrs Jacobs.

"B-B-Billy!" she sobbed, "m-my baby! My little boy!" she wailed, "Have you caught the bastard that did it? Who murdered him?"

"Er…" said Ray, but Gene cut him off. The older man's voice was strangely harsh since he was at the house of the recently bereaved.

"It was an accident. Total accident."

"B-but they-" she began, but Gene interrupted her, his tone short,

"An accident, Mrs Jacobs."

* * *

Shaz sat in the bath, staring at the tiles. She had not felt clean all day, her skin bright red from where she had scrubbed herself repeatedly.

"Shazzer? You alright Shazzer?" Chris had returned. Shaz did not answer him; she had failed him. He was going to be a daddy, and she had taken that away from him. Bile rose suddenly in her throat, and she was forced to scramble out of the bath and place her head over the toilet. She was sick again and again, "Shazzer?" Chris had entered the bathroom. "s'alright love," he said, falling to his knees beside her, rubbing her back and scraping her hair off her face, "It's ok darling."

Shaz stayed hovering above the toilet bowel after she had recovered herself, sobbing uncontrollably, "Come on love." Chris helped her back into a sitting position, flushed the toilet and began to run the sink. Shaz simply cried as he wiped her face lovingly with a flannel. He was being too kind to her. He didn't know what she'd done.

"Let's get you to bed, eh?" Shaz let herself be led dumbly to their bed. She let herself be tucked in without protest, and only closed her eyes when he kissed her gently on the cheek. "Get better darling. Love you."

Shaz stared at the ceiling as he departed, biting back the sobs she longed to give. He had looked after her without question, without pausing to think. He loved her. Sweet, loving Chris was besotted with her…he didn't know what she'd done. She'd taken so much from him. She thought momentarily of a faceless, sexless child running towards her husband, arms outstretched and beaming.

"_Daddy! Daddy's home!" _

She wept silently into the pillow once more.

* * *

Alex lay in a huddled heap on the floor of the flat. Alex Drake had killed a man. She had snuffed out an innocent life mere hours ago. She raised a hand to wipe her nose, sniffling. Those hands had been on the steering wheel. Those hands hadn't swerved far enough. Her feet, resting on the floor, had not pressed the brake fast enough. They had remained on the accelerator.

"Bolls?" Gene entered the room. Seeing her pitiful form in the corner of the room, he instantly made a beeline for her. "Come on now love." he placed a comforting hand upon her, pulling her gently into his arms. "You know as well as I do that it was an accident."

"I-I should have seen him…I wasn't paying attention…I can't have been."

"Shh-sh," he soothed, "don't talk like that. Come on darling, you need to eat. Egg and chips do you?"

"I'd prefer sushi." said Alex, a glimmer of her old self behind the playful words.

"What?" he said, "I'm not cooking anything weird. Who d'you think I am, Fanny bleeding Cradock?" "Egg and Chips it is then." she gave a weak grin.

* * *

"Right." said Gene, two days later, "No way am I going to let Bolls get any sort of punishment for this. Stupid bugger clearly didn't watch where he was going, but the powers that be seem to think it necessary to punish every Tom, Dick or Harry within three miles of an accident. No way am I going to let them take her down…she's stood by me whenever I've needed her, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let her down. So from now on, every moment in this office is going to be spent in proving that she was in no way responsible. Comprende?"

The usual murmurs of 'Guv' and 'Yes sir' came as usual, but, as Gene noticed, not from one member of the team.

"Granger?" Shaz was sat at her desk, staring blankly at the polished wood surface, she made no indication that she had heard anything her DCI had said, "Granger?" he said, though slightly louder now. She looked up slowly, her eyes not quite meeting his, "I said: do you understand?" she gave an unconcerned nod and continued her contemplation of the desk. Gene felt a stab of annoyance.

"Oi, Granger!" Shaz looked up vaguely once more. "I'm a bit bloody sick of this. One day you're pulling a sickie, and the next you come in with a proper face on you. In case you haven't noticed, DI Drake might end up getting charged with causing death by dangerous driving! I'd appreciate it if you showed a little bit more care! She's supposed to be your pissing friend."

Shaz felt suddenly, very hot. All the anger, all the grief she had welled up inside of her was now coming to a violent and ugly head. It bubbled inside her for a moment before bursting its banks and spilling from her uncontrollably. Shaz exploded.

"FUCK YOU!" Gene almost choked on his whiskey, shock which changed, almost imperceptively into anger.

"What did you just say to me?" His tone was dangerous, but she could not care.

"You heard me! You heard what I said to you," tears had begun to form in her eyes, "You dare to talk to me about friendship? Not one of you," she gestured around at Ray, Gene and at Alex's empty desk, "have even stopped to ask me what's wrong! You couldn't give a shit! You expect me in work straight away, and you don't even know why I was ill, you don't even care!"

"What should I care if it's your time of the month?" retorted Gene, teeth bared.

"MY TIME OF THE MONTH! TIME OF THE MONTH!" she screeched, "YOU STUPID, STUPID MAN! If you knew…If you knew…" and with that, she tore from the office, tears streaming down her red face as she ran.

She took the stairs two at a time, falling painfully half way up the forth flight, but she did not care. Coming out finally onto the roof, she walked slowly and deliberately for the edge, her heart pumping a violent tattoo in her ears. She had come to a decision, she had to end it…an eye for an eye. She had killed her baby; she would have to face the consequences.

She had to die.


	9. Chapter 9: Loyalty, Trust & Lamentation

**A/N: Just to clarify for those who I've given the wrong impression: Shaz did not abort the baby, she miscarried and blames herself. She is not actaully responsible for it. Aaaanyway, don't hate me too much for killing her off; flame me through reviews!**

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Gene stormed around the office. Ray looked down at his knees, not wanting to witness the inevitable look of anger on Chris' otherwise pleasant features.

"Oi!" Gene turned to Chris, his look simply daring him to go on, to defend her, "I reckon that's my wife you're talking about!"

"So it is!" said Gene, nastily, "your wife who's just seriously disrespected me and stormed out. So at the moment Chris, I'm wanting some bloody good answers!"

"I'll give you an answer," said Chris, annoyance rising, "she stormed out of here because you constantly treat her like shit!" Gene felt, suddenly, as though a huge weight had hit him around his midriff; Shaz was one thing…but Chris too?

"You know what Guv, you're always expecting us to be there at your beck and call-"

"Yeah, that's because I'm your frigging DCI Christopher!"

"Not only at work, for other stuff to! Alex having that accident doesn't have anything to do with CID, but you expect us just to drop everything and do another department's job!"

"Oh right, so you want her to end up in prison?"

"Of course I bloody don't," shouted Chris, "She ain't done nothing wrong!" he breathed heavily, "But you don't give a shit about Shaz! You don't care what's wrong with her, just as long as she's there to make you tea and do whatever you tell her! Loyalty and trust go both ways!"

Ray looked up at this. 'Loyalty and trust go both ways'? What on earth was that? He had never heard Chris speak like this before, like a dodgy Hollywood movie.

"Alright then Einstein," said Gene, matching Chris' anger, "what the hell is bloody wrong with her?" There was a short silence in which Chris seemed to deflate, flopping back into his desk chair and putting his head in his hands.

"I don't know…I don't bloody know. She keeps crying all the time, and when I ask her what's up, she just cries harder…when she's not crying she just stares into space…I think it's something bad."

* * *

"Hello Sharon, love." Shaz whirled around, almost overbalancing on the roof ledge, but was pulled back by the surprisingly strong hand on her wrist.

"M-M-Mille?" stuttered Shaz, "What-?"

"Oh, yes. I suppose you're wondering why I'm here darling," she said, her eyes twinkling, "I thought I'd drop in on Gene…all that nasty business with Alex…but then I thought I'd come up here and enjoy the view…" Shaz did not answer, but barely noticed that Millie's hand was now tight upon her own.

"Lovely weather for it, I must say," Shaz did not answer again, "I always say, if you're going to kill yourself, it may as well be nice weather," after a pause, Millie continued, "look at me darling." Shaz felt compelled to do so, turning her tear stained face towards the old woman. Millie squinted at her behind her glasses, scrutinising Shaz closely, as if to make a diagnosis, "Well," she said, more to herself than to Shaz, "somebody's died, that's clear enough," she adjusted her glasses, "but who…why the roo-" a stab of realisation hit Millie, "Oh darling…poor love…how far along were you pet?"

"O-only a few days, maybe two weeks." Shaz cried again, renewed tears streaming from her.

"Well darling, I know it doesn't make any difference, but you baby wouldn't have known anything about it…that's a tiny blessing in itself."

"So what? You're just expecting me to hop down from here and carry on with my life-" Millie cut her off, her tone sharp.

"No you silly girl, I expect you to grieve." there was silence, "I expect you to grieve with your husband. I expect you to cry, even when you're an old woman like me, I expect you to cry. Shaz, I'm expecting you to grieve your child, and God knows, you can't do that from six feet under."

"I-It was my fault." Shaz dissolved into yet more tears. It was then that Millie took a huge gamble, stepping away from the ledge, and releasing Shaz's hand she said:

"Yeah. Alright then. It was totally your fault. You did it on purpose."

"B-but, I didn't mean to-" Shaz twigged what Millie was up to, "Oh, very clever."

There was more silence as Shaz stared out across Fenchurch. Millie gave it a good half a minute or so before continuing.

"Come on then Sharon, if you're going to jump, then have done with it. If you wait any longer, you'll make the bloke who scrapes you off the pavement late for his tea." Shaz appeared to take no notice of this.

"You don't know how I feel…you don't…"

"Don't I?" Shaz looked up to see Millie smiling ruefully, "I'll tell you darling, it's a lot harder to lose one at four months, especially when she's the only thing you have left of your husband."

* * *

There was silence as Millie led Shaz back towards the office. Just outside it, Millie turned to face her.

"You ready for this love?" Shaz nodded, but spoke uncertainly.

"B-but, the Guv'll…"

"Don't you worry about him," said Millie, I'll sort him out." and with that, they walked through the double doors together.

"What the hell are you doing back here?" barked Gene, barely registering Millie, vision clouded, as it was, by his anger with Shaz.

"Shut up and get back in that office!" Millie said, staring daggers at him. He froze for a second, compelled to obey, but incredibly conscious that this was his realm, not hers. "Go on!" letting go of Shaz, she began to chivvy Gene into his partitioned office. He allowed himself to be moved firmly along by her, and didn't even react as she said, "Haven't you caused enough trouble for today?" as she closed his office door behind them.

"Millie?" he began, but he was cut off quickly.

"Shut up a second!" Millie gazed anxiously through the blinds as Shaz took her husband by the hand and led him from the room, "What?" she said, turning to face Gene.

"You can't just-"

"I bloody can, you stupid man! You know where I just found that lass after you'd finished with her? Want to take a guess Gene, what her DCI drove her to?" he did not speak, looking at her blankly, "SHE WAS ON THE ROOF! ON THE ROOF GENE!" Millie breathed heavily, fuming, "She'd have done at as well Gene, mark my words…lucky I got to her before she did…"

"I-I didn't think…" stammered Gene.

"DIDN'T THINK? DIDN'T THINK?" Millie berated him once more, "OF COURSE YOU DIDN'T THINK! YOU NEVER BLOODY THINK! DIDN'T THINK TO ASK HER WHAT WAS WRONG, DID YOU?"

"N-no I…"

Millie sighed, flopping into the chair closest to the door. As she spoke, she sounded almost defeated. "You didn't think, did you Gene? Oh God…Gene love, she's had a miscarriage."

The effect of these words were profound, Gene turned white, and sat down himself. For a few moments, the pair sat in silence. It was broken as a gut-wrenching sound partway between a scream and a sob carried loudly from the hallway. So Chris knew.

"And I…I said all that stuff to her? I drove her to it?" Millie shook her head, regretting her earlier choice of words.

"No love, no. Course you didn't. She blames herself…she'd have tried to do it one way or another. It's bloody lucky it happened here actually…no guarantees that she'd have been stopped anywhere else." Millie ran a wrinkled hand down her face. Gene continued to stare across at her, mouth gaping. Finally, in a hoarse voice, he managed to speak.

"I've been such a git…"

"Slight under statement there Gene."

The pair sat in silence, one stunned, the other simply tired, tired of the world and it's unkindness.

Chris's strangled sobs seemed to swell from the very heart of the building, the floorboards reverberating along with them. CID mourned along with him.

Each cry pierced Gene like a knife, though no matter how he tried, he could not block out the sounds of a grieving father; the lamentations that could, ten or so years ago, have been his own.

**A/N: Teehee! I didn't kill off Shaz! This joke is getting old now, isn't it? I make it look like I'm going to kill someone off and then don't. One day I'm just gonna flip and have them all zapped by aliens...speaking of, I'm thinking of writing something totally rediculous after this in which the team get abducted by aliens. Should be a laugh if nothing else. Have just realised that my A/N does not fit in with the tone of the chapter...Oh well!**


	10. Chapter 10: A Name Was Necessary

**A/N: Sorry, short chapter, long time between posting. Enjoy the few words there are, anyway. Review if only to berate me. **

What with two of their best officers on compassionate leave, and another accused of causing death by dangerous driving, the mood in Fenchurch East was far from high. Ray was suffering without Chris, and, merely to make up numbers, Alex had felt obliged to come into work, though spent most of her time sitting at her desk staring into space. Gene, meanwhile, like so many times before, had all but barricaded himself in his office, drinking, smoking and swearing profusely. As Ray had put it to Jasmine over dinner the previous Friday it was "shit, really."

Alex and Gene were arguing more than ever, not their usual well matched banter, recently it had been quite different. They would arrive home from work, Alex would not speak, Gene would try and be sympathetic, perhaps throw an arm around her, which she would invariably throw off, he would get frustrated, he would shout but she would not shout back; she would just cry.

Gene had tried to take refuge at Millie's, visiting her almost every evening, but she had made it clear that he was not welcome. ("I don't care what she is or isn't saying, she needs you! Just sit tight, be there for her, it'll pass!") but it had not passed, if anything, it had got worse. That morning had dawned cloudy and overcast, and Alex had sat in her desk chair as if on tenterhooks; she was being questioned about the accident that afternoon.

* * *

"Shazza?" Chris approached his wife, who sat lackadaisically on the sofa, looking wholly detached.

"Yeah?" she said, almost inaudibly.

"We need to…we haven't like…you know, talked…" Shaz looked up into his tentative face, considering him, even through her grief she found it vaguely amusing that he should want to talk when he was hardly the most articulate of men, though she moved up slightly to allow him to sit himself down beside her. For several, long moments, there was silence, before Chris whispered, "Why'd you go up on the roof Shazza? Why were you going to…you know." she took a deep breath. She had been expecting and dreading this question, though knew that it was one she must answer. She owed him that.

"Coz…coz it was my fault, wasn't it?"

"You what?"

"The baby…my fault." she could not maintain his eye contact, could not bring herself to look him in the face as she admitted her awful betrayal, "I was drinking…I was drinking while I was pregnant…before I knew like…that's what did it, I just know it."

"Don't be stupid."

"But Chris-"

"Shaz, I'm telling you: don't be stupid. It can't 'ave been the drink…from what you said, it were only two weeks in, and it's not like you had a lot in that time…couple of glasses of wine…my Mum drank all the way through when she were pregnant with me, and I'm fine," again, Shaz felt an unbidden urge to giggle, thinking that many of their work colleagues might beg to differ upon Chris' last remark. "I don't blame you Shazza…so I don't see why you do…" his sweetness consumed her, and she raised her head, looking him full in the face which was now so lined with concern. "What you did…went to do…on the roof like, please, just don't. Don't Shazza. Don't do it to me. I love you, please don't ever leave me."

And at last, she understood. Perhaps the simple love, care and warmth which emanated for him had cast some redeeming light upon her, but she suddenly seemed to know: she couldn't have stopped it. Then, with a crash, she realised what she nearly did up on the roof…she nearly made Chris lose his wife as well as his child within a few days of one another.

"I'm sorry Chris."

"I'm sorry too."

"What for?"

"I dunno…" he said, caught off guard, she giggled weakly, "for not finding out what was wrong over the last few days, for not looking after you, for letting you get to the stage where you…well, you know."

"Top myself?" supplied Shaz.

"Yeah, that."

"Weren't to know though, were you?" she said, as he put his arm around her and she relaxed into him.

"No…and neither were you Shaz, bout being pregnant."

"Yeah."

There was silence for a while, before Chris spoke, timidly. "Shazza?"

"Hmm?" she said, in reply.

"Can we…you know…name him?" Shaz did not speak, not knowing how to react, Chris, eager to please, as ever, hastened to add, "If you don't want to…I just thought-"

"No, let's do it…" the decision had come to her subconsciously. A name was necessary. There was a short pause.

"Jack." said Chris, simply.

"Jack," repeated Shaz. "I like Jack."

Shaz placed her head on Chris' chest as he stroked her hair. After what seemed like a short while, Shaz's eyelids began to droop, and gradually, her breathing became deep and slow. When he could be sure she was asleep, Chris placed a hand upon his wife's stomach.

"Sleep tight, Jack." he whispered into the darkness. He removed his hand, hastily using it to wipe the stray tear from his cheek.

* * *

"DI Drake? Is it possible, that in your haste to...ah..." the round, unplesant man consulted her statement gingerly, as though it was giving off a bad smell, "get milk...you might have been a little...shall we say, careless in your driving?"

"No. I was-"

"So careless, in fact, that at 11 pm on October the 30th that you, Alex Drake, cost a man his life?"

"NO! No...No I didn't. I wasn't...I'm always careful...I always..." Alex was taken aback by how much this man wanted her to be guilty, but when she voiced this, he only said:

"No, DI Drake. Long gone are the days when you could just flash your warrant card and the charges would just melt away...long gone...I'm afraid you'll have to be a litltle more...persuasive."

DS Parker's cold, alight eyes chilled her to the bone.


	11. Chapter 11: Last Christmas

**A/N: Ok, don't hate me! Horrible gap between updates! See! This is why I should stick to one-shots! So here it is...last chapter! Please review it. **

At that moment, Ray burst into the interview room, closely followed by a confused looking Gene. Parker stepped back from the table abruptly.

"What the hell?" he exclaimed.

"DS-Parker!" panted Ray, slightly out of breath, "Billy Jacobs…suicide…found this in his flat." Ray handed over a clear plastic bag in which a piece of paper was visible. "double checked with his girlfriend, Parker…she'd been shagging Billy's mate."

Silently, Parker took the plastic bag from Ray, scrutinising the note as if desperate to find something amiss. Seemingly unable to do so however, he looked up, apparently seething.

"I'll run this down to forensics. Check prints…" he muttered. "If this is a forgery…" he headed for the door, turning back briefly to mutter, "You can leave for now Drake…you'll hear from us soon."

* * *

There were hugs, cheers and many claps on the back for Ray that evening. Much to Parker's displeasure, all the evidence pointed to Billy having jumped out in front of the Quattro. Alex had thanked Ray fervently, but somehow couldn't bring herself to join in with the alcohol fuelled celebrations at Luigis that night. Instead, she sat at a lonely table, running her nail along the rim of a wine glass. A man had still died. Yes, she was not to blame, but she had struck the blow that had snuffed out his life, nothing could change that. Taking a sip of red wine, she couldn't help feeling a huge weight lifting off her chest; no matter how she looked at it, there was little she could have done, really.

"Y'alright love?" Gene had sidled over, speaking tentatively and eyeing Alex with concern, expecting her to lash out. He was greatly surprised however, when she broke into a small smile and held out her arms to him. He almost leapt into the embrace, having been starved of such closeness for days now. As he kissed her affectionately on the cheek, Gene felt as if all was well with the world, as feeling which evaporated quickly as he remembered Chris and Shaz.

* * *

"Shazza?"

"Hmm?"

Chris looked down at Shaz who was dozing on his chest, wondering how best to phrase it.

"Well, I've been thinking, see. What with all this stuff with Jack…"

"Yes darlin'?"

"Well, it's got me thinking…"

"…Yeah."

"Well it's got me thinking about family an' that…and maybe you and me…you know…having one?" Chris felt himself redden, he knew he had said the wrong thing. They were still grieving for one baby! How could he even talk about possibly putting Shaz through that again?

"…Me too babe…just not yet, eh? Maybe in a month or two…give me time to…heal."

"Yeah, yeah! I don't mean like right away…I just…"

"I know what you meant Chris." she said, kissing him gently on the forearm, "I've been thinking about it too…I think maybe soon we'll be ready Chris…I know I want to…Some kid deserves a good Daddy like you."

"A fab Mum an' all." said Chris, gruffly, craning his neck to kiss her on the bridge of her nose.

* * *

Christmas seemed to roll around sooner than usual that year, and before Gene could blink, decorations were up, fairy lights aglow and he was skipping through the house humming Christmas carols. Of course, Gene only ever did this when he was alone, to have done so in front of anybody would have been tantamount to turning up to work in a g-string and titty tassels.

On one particular evening, when Gene was cantering around the living room, almost up to the second verse of 'Ding Dong Merrily on High' he did not hear Alex come in after a bought of Christmas shopping. She stood in the doorway, watching him for a while before, unable to contain herself any longer, she bust out laughing, leaning on the doorframe for support. He stopped abruptly, unsure how he should be feeling. Embarrassment didn't quite cover it…his instinct was to be angry at her for laughing at him, but quickly realised how stupid he must have looked…he could hardly blame her for laughing.

Grinning cheekily, he took her shopping bags, threw them aside and pulled her into a ballroom hold,

"Don't just stand there woman! Join in for Christ's sake!"

For the next ten minutes or so, they danced exuberantly, Alex accompanying Gene in a laugh punctuated rendition of 'Good King Wenceslas.' Collapsing, at last onto the sofa they panted and giggled breathlessly. Gene was the first to recover. "That was the campest thing I've ever done." Alex began to laugh again, placing her cheek on his, their legs tangled awkwardly.

"Merry Christmas Eve, Gene."

"You too…Love you Bolls."

"Love you too…Ooh! By the way, I didn't tell you! Everyone's coming over for Christmas dinner tomorrow!"

"Bloody hell, you could've said!"

"I know, I know! I'm sorry! Well, we couldn't exactly eat that huge Turkey on our own, could we?"

"You might not be able to…" he smirked.

"Oh, and Millie's staying over till boxing day."

"Excellent." said Gene, grinning.

That night, Gene went to sleep with all the excitement of a five year old. Tomorrow would be his first Christmas as Alex's fiancée…

* * *

Around 12'o clock the next day, people began to arrive. First Jasmine and Ray, the latter waving a bottle of whiskey in his hand, then Shaz and Chris, subdued but cheery, and then Millie, presents in hand and beaming.

Typically, all four women ended up in the kitchen whilst Ray, Chris and Gene smoked and drunk, until Millie poked her head agitatedly out of the kitchen door.

"Gene! Get off your arse! You said you'd set the timer for the roast potatoes! Sort 'em out!"

Casting a nervous look and Ray and Chris, Gene obeyed.

When dinner was served without any further hitch, the seven people crowded around Gene and Alex's dining table. As they tucked in, Millie looked around at them all, smiling happily. The once, emasculated DCI; the fiancée who refused to believe he was dead; the woman who, only a few weeks ago, was at the point of jumping to her death; her husband who had stood by her, sweet and simple as always and the shop-girl who had found love in the arms of an awkward moustached and loyal man…these were her family, as mismatched as they seemed. In some ways, Millie couldn't help but thank her lucky stars that she had been bundled into the back of a van, beaten half to death and left to drown. If these had never happened to her, she would never have met him.

Gene Hunt. Her son, her once cellmate and her best friend.

When lunch had been cleared away, they all sat in a food induced stupor, tuning into the queen's speech and drinking whiskey in a lacklustre sort of way, passing around the chocolates they were only eating for the hell of it. All in all, the perfect Christmas.

When Chris, Shaz, Ray and Jasmine had left with final shouts of "Merry Christmas." and "Happy New Year Guv!" Millie, Alex and Gene sat in the living room, full of food, tired, yet blissfully happy.

"Great Dinner Alex, love."

"Thanks Millie." Grinned Alex, sleepily from under Gene's arm.

"Bloody brilliant Bolls." muttered Gene, having momentarily awoken from a doze.

"Thanks you two." smiled Mille, "For everything…best Christmas I've had in an age." Both Alex and Gene smiled back.

Suddenly, Alex sat bolt upright, her eyes alight with childish excitement.

"OH MY GOD!"

Gene jumped a mile, his heart racing like mad.

"WHAT? You Ok?"

"IT'S SNOWING!"

Alex leapt up and ran to the window, pointing at the flakes which fluttered serenely from the skies and peppered the tarmac below. Gene shot an exasperated look at Millie, who smiled in response.

"Ooh! Can we go out for a bit! Pleeease?" said Alex, looking at Gene, deploringly.

"Don't see why not," he said, trying to cover his own excitement, "coming Millie?"

"Not today Gene," she said, "My bones won't take that cold…got a bit of a bad chest. Go and have a good time you two. You deserve it."

They hurriedly gathered up their coats, scarves, gloves and hats, pulled them on eagerly and made for the door.

"Bye." said Millie as they left. "Bye Alex…Goodbye Gene."

Sitting alone in the arm chair, Millie managed as stave of the tiredness to see Gene and Alex begin a snowball fight. She chuckled appreciatively as a particularly large one hit Gene squarely in the face. Looking away and tilting her head back, Millie stared up at the ceiling. She had finished a book she had been reading last night…she was glad; she had wanted to finish it before…Millie sighed deeply.

Sometimes, it struck her how similar Gene was to how her Arthur used to be, same robust manner, same tender interior…God she missed him. Every now and then, she would forget what colour his eyes had been, and would really have to think back to picture that vivid green. They came to her now, as bright as ever.

Millie gazed up at the ceiling until she knew no more.

It was Gene who found her half an hour later, tortoiseshell glasses firmly in place before empty eyes. He moved forefinger and thumb over them, bringing her eyelids to cover them for the last time. Kneeling down beside her, Gene took her hand and felt the irrepressible flood of hot tears cascade down his face.

* * *

Just under a year later, a little girl was born. She was named Millie Skelton.

She had been so named for a woman who had touched the lives of everyone in Fenchurch East, and had it not been for her, a fair few of whom would not be there to tell her tale.

**A/N: She's really gone this time. :( God, it really hurt my heart to kill her off. So this is the end now. 'The Start of Defeat' has reached its natural end. I know it seems bleak to leave it here, but you all know that the CID couples get a happy ending right? :'(**

**The Thank yous:**

**The BBC, Kudos, etc. It's all theirs (Except Millie who is MINE) **

**SephyRose (For allowing me to bore her senseless with this.)**

**And you if you have stuck with me until the end. **

**:D**


End file.
